paper rings (l.h.)

35

We went home afterward, my social battery was already half-empty after the first round of socializing wrapped up. I laid my dress on the back of his dining room stools, and I collapsed on the soft cushions of his light gray couch. "You're tired already? What could you have done at Crystal's that would have worn you out?" He jokes, and I feel a smile creep on my face as I cover my eyes with my hands.

"Nothing. We didn't do anything besides try on dresses and..."

"...Talk about me," he cuts me off, knowing Crystal's methods a lot better than I do. I kick my shoes off before bringing my knees to my chest, watching him pour brown grains out of a ziploc bag into his coffee maker; I couldn't help but smile as he glanced over his shoulder. "I need coffee if I'm going to survive tonight. I've seemed to grow accustomed to your early-to-bed, early-to-rise thing."

"I had a lot of chores," I shrug, resting my head on the soft throw draped along the back of his couch. It was soft, and it smelled of his cologne from after he had said hello to it early this morning. I wanted to wrap myself in it. God, I was so in love with him.

"What do you think she'll do if I were to take you on tour with me, months at a time?" He asks, moving to sit on the opposite side of the couch as me. He moves my legs across his lap, his hand gently caressing the soft skin of my calf. His ocean-blue eyes met my brown ones, and I wondered if the sky outside was half as blue as the ones I am looking at right now.

"I think..." I begin, taking a deep breath as I place my pillow behind my back. "I've got cousins younger than me. I'll pay them for however long, and they get free room and board as well. It would be a cool gig if I was just starting out, you know?"

He looks down at my lips, and at the red-painted fingertips that play with the hem of my skirt.

"You could quit your job," he says after a pause. I couldn't help but scoff, shaking my head after hearing such a wild suggestion.

"Everything is so expensive, especially in LA. I'd go broke in a month," I joke, running my fingers through my thick hair. It was warm from the hot sun shining down on us, and I was afraid I smelled of it, too. Luke didn't care.

"I've got enough money for three lifetimes, Mary," he sighs, running his thumbs across my skin up to my knee. I felt my heart skip a beat. I was hoping he'd not bring it up, I knew I had too much pride to rely on someone else's dollar. "I'm tired of seeing you go without."

I let out a soft breath, trying to find a way to verbalize what I am feeling in a way that makes sense. I think of a while, I feel Luke's eyes watching my every breath. "I would feel so useless if I was living off of your hard earned money and contributing to it myself. I can't do that in good conscience."

"Write for me," he says after a second. "I can sing, but I can't write a damned thing. We each have to write a song a week, and we will narrow it down until we have an album."

I look down at his lips as he talks, except I am not listening. I am elsewhere, wondering what that could look like.

"Anyway," he continues, "I suck. They adored the song you brought in a few weeks ago, and they want more."

"You'll get a big head," I smell the sweet scent of coffee already, and although I'd prefer tea I might make an exception tonight. "All my songs will be about you."

"I haven't shown you my studio yet, huh?" He asks after a pause, my legs moving off of him as he moves to his feet.

He winks at me as he leads me to a room beside our bedroom, the door squeaking open slowly after being neglected the last few months. He leaned over to flick on the overhead light, exhibiting the studio's massive collection of equipment covered in dust, and guitars that were once strummed a few times a day at least - Luke's eyes glanced around to see if it was just as he had left it.